The Ghost of You
by MissJoJoRising
Summary: Jane thought it would be easy being Queen, but she was wrong. Yet with the help of an unlikely ally and the woman that still haunts her, she may just have a chance at surviving the treacherous Tudor court. *appearances from Anne*
1. A Fairytale Turned Sour

_Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot._

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><p>I am Jane, Queen of England.<p>

I think I preferred it when I was a mere Seymour girl. Being married and being queen is nothing like how I imagined it to be. The lies, the deceit. The constant trying to please everyone around me, particularly my fickle husband. What started out as a fairytale has soon turned sour and now I am regretting the day I ever managed to capture the King's eye.

He is not the man he used to be. He is not the man that I fell in love with. How could he have changed so much in the space of a year. I remember his eyes, those sapphire eyes that was capable of making my heart stop beating. They were kind, gentle, thoughtful even. They made me believe that he was not the majestic King that everyone else saw him as, but a sweet, tender hearted man. My Henry. How he used to be so kind and honourable towards me. He would oblige me with chaste kisses and gentle embraces as he whispered sweet nothings in my ear. How times have changed. His eyes are cruel now. Insincere. Hardened as though he had suffered some great ordeal. There are no sweet whisperings any more, only harsh words whenever I dare to voice my opinions. No gentle embraces either. He is rough with me now. His kisses sting my skin and bruises my mouth. I feel as though I have displeased him some how but do not know what I have done to make him resent me so. I have long learnt not to question him or say what I think. Only a fool would dare to express their opinion at court these days. I fear a demon has possessed him and taken over his body, for he is certainly not my Henry any more.

The thing that disturbs me most though is not my husband. He is as changeable as the wind. One minute he is lavishing me with gifts and attention, calling me his darling heart, the next he is cold and distant, acting as though I never existed. I try to cope with it as best as I can and simply savour the good and ignore the bad. It is the only way I will ever survive this life. But the one thing that I cannot endure is the thought of **her.** When I am alone my mind wanders and her image plagues my thoughts. I have nightmares about her. Of her headless corpse covered in a blood stained sheet lying on the cold, wet ground. Whenever I get to close to her she rises from the dead and her mangled body grabs my ankle and pulls me down to Hell with her.

I used to think she was guilty. How could she not be? Everyone knows how she was. She mastered her eyes as finely as any craftsmen would master his tools. She knew what she wanted and she always got it. Seduction at an eye pace! Of course she was wicked, how she treated my dear Queen Katherine, God rest her soul, and her poor child. She seduced the King for his crown and did not care who got in her way. The way the King fell for her could only have been the result of witch craft. What man would leave his loyal, loving wife for someone little better than a harlot? No, she was a wicked whore who used her body to gain favours and power.

But the more I think about it, the more I cannot help but have some doubt about her guilt. Surely even she knew that she was on dangerous ground towards the end of her life. Would she really have done something so stupid, so treacherous as to sleep with other men just because she wanted to satify some perverted lust? Would she have knowingly endangered her own life as well as that of her daughter? Deep down inside my heart I know that she would not. Call her what you will but her love for Elizabeth was strong and pure. I would wager she would have willingly died for her well being.

But why then would the King have her executed if she was not guilty? I have heard rumours that he and Cromwell sent for the swordsmen before the verdict had ever been decided. I tell my doubts to my brothers but they just simply laugh at me and remind me that she was found guilty by a court of men who were well known for their upstanding reputations. But if the King wanted something he would have it. Their marriage was proof of that, as is ours. If he wanted her found guilty, then she would be found guilty. My only friend, my only true friend at court is Lady Rochford, and I confide my secret thoughts to her as though she were my own personal diary. She too thinks I am being silly and reminded me that the woman had a wicked reputation and that they might have called her sister a whore but she had seen things between the Queen and her brother that would shock the Devil himself. But it was well known that Lady Rochford hated her husband, the late Queen's brother, who shared her fate on the scaffold.

Now that I am Queen, no one gives me an honest word. They all flatter and compliment me so that I will grant them favours. They seem to forget that I have a long memory and remember that they once used to ignore me. How I wish for honesty. If just one person shared their doubts about her guilt then I would know that I was not the only one, that there might be some truth to my suspicions, but no one dares speak about it. Even Cranmer will not contradict the King and refuses to speak to me in private.

I am worried. Not only for my immortal soul, for if she was innocent my presence helped condemn her, but for my mortal body too. If the King can divorce one wife and kill the other, what fate lies in store for me? If I anger him and remain childless, will he have me found guilty of some crime and have the axe waiting for me? I am constantly walking on egg shells. I just remain quiet and smile lovingly at him as though his presence does not make my skin crawl. I will do my duty and hope he finds me pleasing.

For I am his Queen and I must submit myself to him completely.

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><p><strong><em>Next Chapter: Jane discovers Anne's secret diary<em>**


	2. So It Has Begun

**Author's Note: Thank you for the kind reviews! I have changed the narrative to third person but character's thoughts are written in italic, hope it doesn't get too confusing!**

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><p>For once at complete ease in her hectic life, Queen Jane was sat in her private chambers embroidering next to the glowing embers of the fire with her ever loyal Lady Rochford by her side and surrounded by her entourage of gentle ladies . She was never happier than when she was decorating a tapestry and sewing her husband's shirts, she found it so relaxing. She looked up at the lady who had once been deemed more noble than she, and smiled at her sincerely, a smile that was just as enthusiastically returned, for Lady Rochford loved the Queen as much as if she was her own sister. The two had struck up a friendship at the beginning of her reign and were practically inseparable as they became each other's confidants. But Jane's blissful morning of peace and quiet was interrupted when a young lady walked past the little party and immediately caught the Queen's attention.<p>

"Lady Missledon, what is that upon your head?" Jane called out and the woman stopped in her tracks, bed linen resting in the crook of her arms, and she turned around to face her Queen.

Merely looking at the woman made Lady Missledon's blood boil as her face twitched involuntarily into a sneer, shooting her looks of utter loathing and disgust. It was a well known fact, well to everyone but the Queen herself, that Ursula Missledon had no time or love for Queen Jane. She viewed her jealously as all women do with their rivals in love, for yes, Ursula Missledon was the King's 'new whore' as the women about court had started to label her. But at this time presently, Jane was naive of the fact thanks to the considerate discretions of her husband.

"A hood, your Majesty" Ursula defiantly smirked and Jane was quietly outraged at the woman's cheek and lack of respect.

The King had employed a whole retinue of new ladies at court to act as ladies-in-waiting upon the Queen as a wedding present, but Jane had always been wary of Lady Missledon. There was something about her that made her uneasy. The way she walked, so proud and self superior, as though waiting upon the Queen of England was beneath her. As time went on, she noticed the woman had become more cold towards her, first narrowing her eyes in contempt at her and now these public acts of defiance. She was quickly becoming one of her least favourite people at court.

"I am well aware of that, do not be so impudent" Jane warned, and the smirk immediately disappeared from Ursula's face. "What I was referring to was, why is it in the style of a French hood and not a Gable hood as specified by my own instruction?" she pointed out and all the ladies around the room had stopped their work to listen to the conversation that was occurring. It seemed that everyone but Jane knew the reason why Ursula was wearing a French hood, and they all pitied the poor Queen. Although she may have been somewhat strict, she was kind hearted and gentle, and no one could bring themselves to tell her that the King had taken Ursula as his mistress.

"I wanted to stand out, your Majesty" Ursula informed her, as cool as a cucumber.

"You are a lady-in-waiting, Lady Missledon. You are not meant to stand out but be discreet and modest whilst you are serving your Queen" Jane chastised. But Ursula was not used to being told off by anyone. She was her own person, no one, not even the King, had the privilege of telling her what she could and could not do. In a moment of boldness, Ursula merely raised her eyebrow and declared,

"The King seems to like it!"

Jane felt her heart fall into the pits of her stomach.

_So it was true! He **is** sharing the bed of another._

Though she had not been certain of the fact she knew there was something going on with Henry. He seemed even more distant than usual and at times she had caught him staring into crowds of women as greedily as a wolf spying upon a herd of unsuspecting sheep. She had even found scratches on his back whilst they were making love one night, and whilst she was tried to tend to them in concern he merely brushed her off and blamed it on scratching fly bites. She suspected that it was the result of some passionate affair with a courtesan but did her best to push it to the back of her mine. Now it had been pushed in front of her very nose.

_So it has begun._

It seemed, however, that Ursula had realised that she had overstepped the line and immediately regretted that she had said such a thing. She had seen that momentary glimpse of fear in the Queen's eye when she had said those wounding words and she could not help but feel sorry for the woman. She did not care for her or her regime much, but she had done nothing out of ill will towards her and she acknowledged that she was a kind woman, if weak and hypocritical. As Jane regained her composure, Ursula thought it was best to drop the whole matter and so she looked down at the floor and waited for the Queen to speak like the good little lady she was meant to be.

"Well, the King is not here at the moment is he?" Jane managed to croak, her throat feeling dry and hoarse so she swallowed deeply to replenish it. "In my presence you shall wear Gable hoods. Do you understand?" she firmly told her, no malice in her tone but with all the authority of a Queen.

"Yes your Majesty" Ursula quietly obeyed, her eyes still looking down at the floor and waiting to be dismissed.

"Carry on, Lady Missledon" she instructed and threw herself back into her embroidery. But Lady Rochford could see that she was clearly distressed at having learnt about her husband's indiscretions in such a humiliating way and so she leant over to her to console her.

"Are you all right, your Majesty?" she asked in a discreet whisper. After all, she too had suffered an adulterous spouse and she too knew the humiliation all too well.

"I am perfectly content, Lady Rochford" Jane forced a smile at her friend, although deep in side she was breaking down.

_It is only a matter of time before he replaces me,_ she sadly thought.

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><p>It was too cold to go out for a walk today but Jane, fed up staring at the walls that greeted her every day, decided that she wished to stretch her legs and escape the stuffy room. She rose from her chair and decided that an adventure was needed. She missed the days of her childhood when she and her brothers would wander across the estate of Wulfhall and explore the surrounding forest of Savernake, pretending they were in a fairytale where she was the princess, Edward was the knight and Thomas was the wicked dragon that was keeping her hostage.<p>

_Oh what happy days,_ she sighed longily, her body aching in sadness in memory of childhood happiness and innocence.

Well, she was determined that she would have a new adventure, and so she decided to dismiss all of her ladies for the afternoon, save for Lady Rochford who she summoned to accompany her as her chaperone around the castle. But everywhere they went they found either occupied or else had already been explored long before. In no time at all they had covered the ground floor and were just coming out the gallery on the first floor, when Jane suddenly noticed a room which she had always passed but never actually explored yet.

"Lady Rochford, is it not strange? I have been Queen for a year and yet have never stepped foot in that room" Jane observed with a somewhat chuckle. She took a step forward towards it in her curiosity and tried the handle to see whether or not it was locked. It was not, and the door squeaked a little as it opened up into dark room in which the closed shutters on the windows had blocked out all day light.

"There is a reason that nobody goes in there, your Majesty" Lady Rochford informed her, daring to peek over the Queen's shoulder and look into the room that always gave her the shivers when she walked past it.

"Really, and why is that?" she turned to look at her chief lady only to notice that she was looking down at the floor as though she were guilty of some great crime.

"It stores the possessions of the late Queen" she explained just loud enough for the Queen to hear and she quickly took a step back into the safety of the corridor as though she would upset spirits waiting for her in the room.

"Katherine!" Jane exclaimed joyfully. She had always wondered where Katherine's royal possessions had ended up after she was exiled from the King's court. She would find great pleasure in searching through her mistress' old things and remembering them fondly in her mind from when she was a simple lady-in-waiting herself.

"No, the other, my lady" she mumbled.

"Oh" was Jane's pathetic reply and a chill went down the entire length of her body. She looked back into the room again and it suddenly seemed eerier. She too wondered if the spirit of the Boleyns rested in there amongst their possessions and imagined that they would attack any who dared to enter, especially if they possessed the name Seymour. That heavy feeling of guilt crept into her stomach again as she once more began to ponder upon Anne's guilt.

_Perhaps I could find a clue in here!_ she suddenly thought, and she called out to Lady Rochford from over her shoulder as she clung on to the door frame, tiptoeing the threshold indicisively.

"Well I intend to do some exploring, Lady Rochford. You may go back to my chambers and prepare some hot water for me. I desire to wash my hair soon" she informed and she heard the swishing of Lady Rochford's dress skirts as she curtseyed to the Queen.

"Of course your Majesty" she replied with a great look of concern upon her face, worried about what her mistress would stumble upon in that forbidden room. But she did as she was instructed and made her way back to the Queen's chambers.

Finally, Jane forced herself to take a step into the room and gently closed the door behind her, careful not to make any noise which would inform the guards of her whereabouts. The room had evidently not been cleaned in a long time, long before Anne Boleyn had lost her life. The floor was so dirty that her every step left a clear footprint. The room was filled with furniture, some covered with sheets, others left bare. Well, Jane was not going to let her dreams turn into reality and was not prepared to pull away the sheets to have the woman or her family jump out from the confines of a cabinet. Instead she set her eyes to the corner of the room and found herself being drawn to a familiar looking trunk.

Jane looked at the thing with great curiosity. She vaguely remembered it from her time as a lady-in-waiting. The Queen had stored it away beneath her bed and everyone knew that it was forbidden to go anywhere near it. She wondered what deep, dark secrets lay within it. She went up to it and knelt down in front of it. A thick layer of dust had covered the lid and Jane blew at the grey fluff, sending it flying into the air. She coughed a little as she inhaled some of it but proceeded in wiping the rest away with her hand. The wood revealed underneath was still as highly polished as when Jane had first seen it. And there in the middle, sat the initials AB, shining out brightly in gold. Even seeing her initials chilled her to the very soul. She lifted the lid and it creaked as it opened. Inside were masses of dusty old books. She picked a few up and flicked through the titles. The Obedience of a Christian Man, The Bible, Book of Hours. She set them down by the side as she emerged herself deeper into the chest.

Then there was parchments rolled up in beautiful ribbons or else neatly folded with the utmost care. She picked one up and began to read it,

_No more to you at this present, mine own darling, for lack of time, but that I would you were in my arms or I in yours for I think it long since I kissed you..._

but Jane had to stop half way through when she recognised the words. A love letter from Henry addressed to Anne back from their days of courting. Words that were almost exactly the same as the ones he had used upon Jane herself. She folded the parchment up once more and stuffed it down the side of the chest, pushing the honeyed words to the back of her mind. Instead she picked up another book. This time a great, big bulking one which had a beautiful emerald green leather cover and once again AB was written in gold on the front. She opened it up half way.

_Dear Diary,_

_It will not be long now. I shall no longer be Anne Boleyn, but Anne, Queen of England, Ireland and Wales. I often dreamt of being a Queen as a child but never in my wildest dreams did I think it would ever come true. This almost justifies not being able to marry my beloved Henry Percy. It seemed that God had a grander purpose for me and I will set about doing his work. _

Jane could not believe it.

A diary! Was this God's gift in helping ease her guilty conscience or helping her recognise her guilt? Surely now she would get to the bottom of the pot and discover the truth about the whole situation. She skipped a few of the pages and began to read some more, having no feelings of shame as she invaded the privacy of a person long dead.

_I think I felt the child move this morning. I cannot be certain but I swear I felt a flutter. I did not tell Henry though, I did not want to overexcite him. I prefer it this way, it is my own little secret. I am already thinking about names. I know that I must honour Henry's family, but I cannot decide upon Edmund, after his grandfather, or Owen after his great grandfather, a husband to Catherine of Valois. This son will be the most precious prince in all the kingdom and when he is old enough he will be more celebrated than Henry V. He will bring in a golden age and all will remember his name in ages to come._

Jane checked the date.

April 21st 1533.

The child she felt flutter was not a boy, but her daughter Elizabeth. She could not help but wonder if she had planned a name for a daughter, or if she was so confident about the child being a boy that she completely ignored the fact until it was presented before her. As she continued reading various entries in the diary, she wondered if she herself was mentioned in it anywhere. She had began to court the King in November and so out of curiosity she flipped further into the book until she found November 1535 and read every diary entry until she found her own name staring out at her from the page.

_Dear Diary,_

_It appears that the King is infatuated with another one of my ladies. This time it is Jane Seymour. Even though it hurts me that he has forsaken me once more, I am not as angry as I once used to be. Jane is nothing but a pipsqueak of a girl. She will not keep his interest for long. I will take George's advice and endure his infidelities, just as Katherine did. I know that I have his love and that although he may stray, he is loyal to me and me alone. I pity the Seymour creature, it seems she is more in love with the King than he is with her, the silly little milksop._

Jane could not help but feel angry that she had been dismissed so easily by the woman and she could not help but give a little self-satisfied smirk, rare in Jane's usual modest personae, at the knowledge that she, this so called 'pipsqueak of a girl' had taken the husband and crown from the woman who claimed that she still had the King's love. She continued reading until once again she found her own name in an entry dated two months later.

_I underestimated Jane Seymour. They say it is the quiet ones that you have to watch out for, and in this case, it is true. She presents herself as a maiden of virtue and modesty, but in truth she is nothing but a little harlot. I went to visit the King this day and when I went in to his rooms I found her upon his lap with her tongue down his throat! I was beside myself and although I tried desperately to maintain my emotions for the good of my son, I exploded in a fit of rage and challenged them both. It is a good job that he told her to leave or else I would have given her a good box around the ears. I am somewhat more calm at the moment but I cannot get the image out of my head. I will deal with her later. I must concentrate on keeping my son safe. This little bundle will be my salvation and when he arrives into the world I can do to her what I wish, as Papa so eloquently reminded me._

"Your Majesty!"

Before Jane had any chance to react to what she had read, Lady Rochford had shouted out to her and she had jumped in fright, having thought that Boleyn had come back to inflict this revenge that she had promised upon her, and had toppled over on to the cold, dusty floor.

"Your water is ready" Lady Rochford informed her with a half bemused look on her face at finding the Queen in this less than elegant position. Jane pushed herself up on to her feet and wiped the dirt of her usually pale and soft hands before nodding to Lady Rochford and telling her that she would be there in a minute. As soon as she knew that Lady Rochford was out of sight, she quickly grabbed the diary from of the floor and hid it in her dress skirts, intending to finish reading it in the privacy of her own bed later that night.

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><p><strong><em>Next Chapter: After discovering some interesting facts, Jane strikes an alliance with an unlikely ally and has a ghostly encounter<em>**


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